Musings

a broken pot

i am like potipher's wife,
with green eyes
and red lips
that pucker and pout.
coveting what's right,
but not mine.
i set a trap
only to catch myself.
falling far
and deep
like adam's wife,
i hid my shame
with a cryptic fig leaf.

life is a tear
falling down my cheek,
running in the corner
of my mouth,
i taste the salty sorrow
and shallow it,
licking my lips
for a second course,
sending it back
to bottle like a fine wine.
maybe one day
i'll turn to salt,
a statue of savor
preserved for those to remember
the consequences.
like lot's wife.

"i am a broken pot."


prisoners of my heart

Oh what mighty thoughts I would wish to pen
and inscribe in ink that which I feel within.
To dig and seek what lurks in my shadowy heart
secrets and truths long buried beneath that which I know not.
Lingering in dungeons locked by rhythmic beat
are prisoners with bounded feet.
For this heart of flesh so resembling stone of granite
with which the anxieties of sadness beat against it
hoping to chip away that which will not budge.
Desiring, demanding to rid myself of one more grudge.
But the stone holds; it is stubborn and strong.
Perhaps too strong, I think, and perhaps it's stood for far too long...


once upon a dream
i stood upon a shore
and viewed the waves.
big laughing waves
that settled a troubled soul,
until
the ocean made a fist,
striking the sand
and shattering it.
the tide of people crashed
around me,
trampling the grains,
until
a hand appeared
extending from
my lifeguard.
grasping tight
we ran against the swell
until
another slender hand appeared.
their eyes met,
their hands clasped
and off they ran
while i stumbled.
mouth full of sand
eyes full of salt,
until
i was washed away